Song Meme
by toadstoolcouch
Summary: A bunch of ficlets done as a meme, a fic for a random song. Mostly Seth/Pickles.


Disclaimer: All characters and related stuff belongs to the creators of Metalocalypse and everyone else at the top. The characters and the basic plot that I'm deriving this fanfic from is not mine. And I make no kind of monetary profit from this. Just a silly fanfic, no harm intended.

Crystal Method-Trip Like I Do

He closes his eyes and he's flying through space. The stars are orange and he can feel his body soar, fly, zoom past the points of light. There is a burning in his loins that drives sparks up his body. He can't help but smile and giggle, mostly because he can barely stand the feelings in his body. It's almost too much to take.

His eyes are open now and there's not even an inch between him and someone else, in every direction. They all move at once, the music so loud it's not music anymore, but part of the air itself. It vibrates their insides. Who's rubbing up on him? Who knows, who cares. He bumps into so many people, sees so many faces, but they're all blue or green or black, depending on exactly where this person might be standing.

He can see him, and his hair that looks black, and like some kind of fat snake coiling and uncoiling from his head as he moves it. The bodies in front of him are a sea in the way, but he fights it, and as he's buffeted, he laughs, he giggles. He tries to fight his muscles as they cramp and slow and resist him, and the frustration is just so funny. He still has the feeling of that pill being stuck in the back of his throat, but he knows it's in his belly right now, burning a hole. He can see it, when he closes his eyes.

He reaches his hand out for the other, and he reaches it out too. Will they reach?

Korn-Somebody, Someone

"Mother fucker! Fuck you, fuck you!"

"Get back here!"

"Don't touch me!"

Seth watched him go. He could only stand there and watch. He even called out a few more times, but Pickles was gone by then. And then he threw the glass he was holding against the wall as hard as he could. He even went to the cabinet and pulled out some more glasses and tossed them on the floor. "Fuck you then!" he screamed in the direction his brother had gone. As he opened his mouth to yell something else, his voice cracked and he started to cry. Just a quiet heaving of the shoulders, silent tears bubbling out from the corners of his eyes. So he ripped open the cabinets doors and slammed them, he threw more dishes against the wall. he had spittle falling from the corner of his mouth by now.

"I'm not even drunk," he whined.

Marilyn Manson-Mr Superstar

I sit at his feet while he's at the computer. I'm invisible, until he moves me onto all fours and then rests his feet on my back. I'm ignored again, until he kicks me back down and tells me to get him a beer from the fridge. If Mom and Dad are home, I'll get in trouble. I'll get grounded, I'll have to hear the bullshit. But I have to risk it. For him. I don't wan him to be mad at me, I don't want him to hit me.

He drinks it right in front of me, he looks at me while he does it. When he bends his finger, I crawl up to the bed with him and I lie down where he points. He touches my lip and I open my mouth so that he can pout some of that beer into my mouth. He smiles as I drink it, and especially when some dribbles out of my mouth.

His kiss tastes like beer, his tongue is rich with flavor. When he says so, I throw the can away. I clean up the rest of his room while I"m at it. I just don't want him to hit me today, I don't want him to burn me Please don't be mad at me. Please, I just want you to like me.

Black Velvet

He stopped at that dusty old bar after a long, hard ride through the desert. He could feel how the toll the ride had taken on him in his leg as he forced over the seat of his bike, and in the ache in his feet as he walked inside.

He was in between tours, and he kept his hair down, wore no makeup, hoping to just blend in. With hair that red it would be hard, already he was getting looks. He ordered a drink, winked back at the woman sitting on the other side who eyed him. He wasn't going to be there long, just relax. Get a drink. Pull out his paper and pen, and a picture he kept in his wallet. He looked at it for a second, wiped his finger over the face, then put the pen to work.

Dear Seth

Then the woman came over, and he put it away.

Marilyn Manson-Fundamentally Loathsome

In the middle of the night, with only the street lamps and their eerie orange glow, the streets look so different. So magical. Toki liked to call this neighborhood the land of the mushroom city. Like something out of Alice in Wonderland! He was stumbling so bad he made it through the quiet, lifeless city bathed in the orange light mostly on his knees. But since most of the creatures that lived here were tiny, or lived underground, why should he stand?

He liked it here. No one else. No Skwisgaar. No women. Nothing but him, and his booze, and his orange light and the mushroom people. He was their god, because he made them, and when the sun came up, he was the one to sweep them all away. When the memory of that one night came to him, he'd sweep that way too, just as easily.


End file.
